Scotch and Stories
by flutterbyfree
Summary: Ivy may have more money than she can count, but Manhattan can be a lonely place- especially when everyone you know hates you. Chuck's just been told that Blair no longer loves him. A glass of scotch shared between two unexpected friends changes it all.
1. Chapter 1

Chuck wasn't the claustrophobic type, but it was starting to feel like the walls of the hotel were getting closer together. He was in his bedroom reading a newspaper- he wasn't even quite sure which one it was, the _Times_ maybe, or the _Post_- and on the other side of the wall was Brooklyn's most unkempt, talking to Nathaniel. How Blair had fallen for that poorly-coiffed mess Chuck would never know, but he wasn't in the mood for puzzling over it.

He could always demand that Humphrey leave, but then the little rat would be aware that he was getting on Chuck's nerves. So instead he stood up, smoothed out his suit, and left. He got into the elevator, throwing only the most casual "Nathaniel" over his shoulder as a goodbye (nothing for Humphrey, of course- courtesy was probably too difficult for a being of the lower-class to comprehend), and then he was gone.

Where to go, though? For a young man of Chuck's standing, no door was closed. There were clubs, parties galore, social scenes seething everywhere he looked. And yet for some reason he didn't feel like any of that. If his own home had been taken over by the worst writer since Amanda McKittrick Ros, then he'd just have to go to the next best thing.

He approached his car, got into the backseat.

"Arthur," he said. "Take me to Lily's."

**XXXX**

Ivy stood in the center of the room, one eyebrow arched as she took in the space. _Extravagant_ was the first word that came to mind. Not Ivy's taste at all. This place was modern to the point of severity, as unwelcoming as an ice palace.

_I'll have to redecorate_. _Paint the walls, get some new furniture. After all,_ she thought with a smile,_ I can afford it._

She'd loved CeCe to bits, really she had, and if Ivy had been left out of the will entirely she wouldn't have cared. She hadn't loved her for the money, no matter what the van der Woodsens thought. But the woman had left Ivy everything. Lily, Carol and Serena might not have been happy about it, but Ivy wasn't about to apologize. After all, where had they been when CeCe was dying? Ivy had been at her side for months. She wasn't happy about the conditions that had led to her windfall, but this was her life now, and she wasn't about to reject it.

Ivy was looking at the artwork over the stairs (she'd always preferred landscapes, modern art wasn't really her thing) when a 'ding' sounded to her right. She turned sharply towards the opening elevator doors, expecting the concierge, maybe, with a delivery. Instead there was Chuck Bass.

He looked only mildly surprised to see her, while her face was an exercise in shock. "Charlie. Oh, wait. It's Ivy now, isn't it?"

"Always was," she replied, regaining her sense of self.

"If that were true, you wouldn't be in quite such a predicament, would you?"

She smiled tightly. "Can I help you, Chuck?"

He took a step closer, walking like he owned the place. "I was looking for Lily," he said, his voice an elegant drawl.

"Lily doesn't live here anymore," Ivy said.

"Doesn't she? My, my. You've made quick work of the whole family, haven't you? Tell me, where did you hide the bodies?"

"Brooklyn," she said, trying to infuse the word with the amount of disdain someone in her standing should have for the place. What was wrong with Brooklyn, anyway? Ivy certainly didn't know. Wasn't it supposed to be full of artists?

In turn, Chuck's nose crinkled as though the very word smelled. "Ugh. If that's the case, maybe I don't need to see her quite so urgently. I'm sorry to bother you."

He turned away, pressed the button to call the elevator. It was out of her mouth before she knew what had happened.

"You sure you don't want a drink?"

He looked back at her. The elevator doors slid open. He glanced from there back to her face and then- she had to roll her eyes at this- took a slow ride down her body before flickering back upwards. And then he smirked.

"You must be really lonely if you're offering Chuck Bass a drink," he said as he moved past her into the kitchen, close enough for her to smell his no-doubt expensive cologne. It occurred to Ivy that she hadn't been alone with a guy in a very long time.

"You have no idea," she sighed.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I know Chapter One was kind of short, but this one's a bit longer. This chapter is not just focused on Ivy and Chuck, although they still have a fairly significant section. Nate and Dan are in this one, along with a brief Blair scene. Serena's turning up in the next chapter. And while it may not seem too exciting right now, I promise big stuff is brewing for our Upper East Siders! Hope you guys like it, and thank you for the reads and reviews!**

**XXXX**

"The sex was bad," Nate said. Not a question, but a statement.

Dan, embarrassed, could only nod. The situation was a bit too weird for him. Here he was, talking about his and Blair's relationship issues, in the home of her ex-boyfriend. At least Chuck wasn't actually present, having left for places unknown some time ago. It was a good thing, to say the least. If Chuck knew about what had happened he would probably make it his personal mission to make Dan feel as inadequate as possible. It wouldn't take much, either. Dan was feeling pretty inadequate all on his own.

"Well, it must have been you," Nate went on, a bit of a grin on his face, "because I've been with Blair, and I know it was all the way back in high school but even then she was- I mean, _really_-"

"Can we not talk about all the sex you two had?" Dan interrupted, looking faintly nauseated. "Especially when it was, apparently, so much better than… what happened with her and me."

"Doesn't even sound like anything happened, man," Nate laughed. "How long did you last? Two? Three minutes?"

Dan shot him a dirty look and took a swig of beer. "I'm not answering that one. Except to say, more than that. A lot more."

"Okay. I was joking, but obviously you're not in the mood for a laugh. I guess it's advice time. Why don't you just do it again?" Nate asked. "Practice makes perfect, right?"

_I've had plenty of practice,_ Dan wanted to say. There had to be something else wrong. Dan thought back to what he was mentally referring to as _the incident_. There was kissing. The kissing had been good. Then there had been the undressing, which was fine. And then had come the actual act itself, during which Dan had apparently turned into some kind of fish, flopping around like some awkward teenage virgin. What was the problem? It hadn't been like this with anyone else, not even when he actually _had_ been an awkward teenage virgin. His first time with Serena had been perfect. He had been so in love with her.

_Was that what was wrong? _He dismissed the thought immediately. Of course he was in love with Blair! He knew how he felt. And with other girls, girls he hadn't loved, he'd still performed admirably. So what the hell had gone wrong?

He could only sigh. Putting his muddled thoughts into words would be too much of an undertaking for this conversation. "You should have seen the look on her face. I don't think I've ever seen anyone look more underwhelmed in their life. I don't think she'll want to go for that again."

"All you can do is try," Nate said sagely.

"I guess you're right. Look out, world. Here comes sexual failure, Dan Humphrey."

Nate, who'd been trying to hold this very reaction in, burst out laughing.

**XXXX**

Blair sank into the tub with a sigh of relief and thought about her life. She was twenty-one years old, divorced (or soon-to-be divorced), friendless and dangerously close to becoming an uneducated boor. What had ever happened to her dreams of higher education? They were replaced with dreams of fairy-tale endings and Mediterranean principalities. Look how that had turned out!

She reached for a macaron, leaning her head back against the edge of the bath. What now? Did she go back to Columbia? _Could_ she? Maybe it would be better for her to get a job. It wouldn't be difficult. She had no shortage of connections, especially considering her brief (but impressive!) time at _W_. But what if no one would take her, tainted by scandal as she was? She couldn't even have some decent sex to make her feel better about all this.

_Oh, Humphrey_. She didn't really want to blame him for their lack of chemistry, but who else was at fault? Herself? Blair Waldorf was many things, but she was _not_ bad at sex. Something just hadn't worked out. It occurred to her that there might be a correlation between the amount of talking a guy did and how good he was in bed. Chatterbox Dan sank on his maiden voyage while someone like Nate or Louis or Chuck…

_Chuck._ Their relationship had been troubled at times but never without passion. Limo sex, secret rendezvous, all the games and schemes and costumes- they had been _fun_, hadn't they? Even if she was no longer in love with him, she had to admit that was true. She tried to imagine Humphrey dressing up as a waiter and snorted with laughter. He was all about romance. That was great and all, but sometimes you don't want the candles- you want the fire.

**XXXX**

"Wine, wine, everywhere," Ivy said to herself as she looked through the van der Woodsen's liquor cabinet, "and not a drop of scotch."

"You're a scotch woman?" Chuck asked from behind her, his voice right on the back of her neck, stirring in her ear. In response, she only nodded.

"I always keep some stashed around the place," he went on, reaching past her into the very back of the cabinet and pulling out a bottle. He offered her it to her so she could read the label. She took it, nodded appreciatively, and tried not to think about how good his cologne smelled. What was wrong with her, anyway? A few months without a guy and she starts to get stirred up by everyone who walks into her penthouse. Who next, the doorman? And wasn't Chuck supposed to be in love with Blair Waldorf, anyway? What was the deal there?

Squashing her muddled thoughts, she set the bottle down onto the kitchen countertop. "You can pour. Since it's your scotch and all."

"Don't mind if I do," he said.

He knew where the glasses were, of course, and got two for them. He poured and slid the glass across the counter to Ivy. She lifted it to her lips, taking a small, measured sip. As the liquid hit her tongue she puckered, squeezing her eyes shut while the scotch burned its way down her throat. It was the afterglow that she really wanted, anyway.

"How is it?" he asked.

"It's great," she replied when the harshness had disappeared and been replaced by a pleasant warmth. "You have good taste."

"So I've been told," he said, pouring himself a glass and observing the girl across from him. Ivy Dickens. He'd never given her much of a second thought until he heard about her deception- until then he'd figured she was just another Serena. In reality, she was the farthest thing. He had to admit that he was impressed. She was a born liar, skilled manipulator- how many people could have tricked the entire Upper East Side into believing she was one of them, and then actually completed the transformation by inheriting millions from Celia Rhodes herself? Not to mention that she was beautiful into the bargain. _A tip of the hat to you, Ms. Dickens_, he thought. _Sometimes God _does_ give with both hands._

Chuck waited for her to finish the rest of her drink before speaking again. "You know, a good host always strives to entertain their guests. Or, guest, as it may be," he said, trying to turn on the patented Chuck Bass charm. Ivy seemed largely unimpressed as she laughed dryly and ran a hand through her long, blonde hair.

"Yeah?" she said. "Well, I'm new to all this hostess stuff. Tell me, how can I entertain you, Mr. Bass?"

"Well," he said laconically, "There is one story I'd love to hear. And you're the only one who can tell it. I think you know the one to which I'm referring."

"You mean, 'How Ivy Dickens Went from Trailer Trash to Penthouse Princess'? I like that one myself. It's a solid read."

"That's exactly the one," he said.

"There's not much to tell that you don't already seem to know. Carol hired me to pose as her daughter so she could steal money from the van der Woodsens. CeCe took a shine to me, and when she got sick, I helped her. I was there for her the whole time she was being treated while her family was attending royal weddings and Constance Billard parties and… well, as you can see, she left me everything."

"And they're not too happy about that," Chuck observed.

"No."

"Seems like they should be more upset at Carol than you. I mean, it's not like you cooked up this whole scheme on your own."

"Yeah? It's nice to know someone gets it. Maybe you should tell them that."

He seemed to think about her words for a long moment. Then, suddenly, "You know, my friend Nathaniel is dating the real Charlie Rhodes. Or it seems she's calling herself Lola now. If she wanted a new identity, she might have picked a nicer name. I'm pretty sure I have a girl at the club named Lola."

Ivy snorted with laughter. _His _burlesque_ club,_ said a voice in her head. Ivy had never been to a burlesque club before. Was it basically like a strip club, only classier? New Yorkers were so weird sometimes.

"But honestly," Chuck continued. "All this playing of the name game is exhausting."

"You're telling me," Ivy said.

"What I meant to ask was, didn't Nathaniel have his eye on you for a while?"

"For about two minutes, despite my protests," Ivy agreed, looking down into her now-empty glass. "It's not entirely his fault. I may have led him on for a bit there. But I did it because… well, I did…"

"…what you had to do," Chuck finished.

Their eyes met. The corner of Chuck's mouth quirked upwards in a semi-smile, one Ivy slowly matched. The absurdity of the situation was evident for both of them. Ivy was thinking about how a girl from the bad part of town was sipping scotch in a penthouse (a penthouse she owned!) with a boy billionaire. And Chuck was thinking about how he was pouring drinks for an astonishingly clever identity thief with more money than she knew what to do with.

"More?" he offered, wanting to break the silence that had descended over them. Not that it was an awkward silence- it wasn't. Actually, he felt very at ease with this girl. But he'd felt the compulsion to say something. _Is this what it's like when you make a new friend? _he wondered, because Chuck hadn't made a new friend in years.

"Please," she said, and slid her glass over to him.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: A long update this time, and by that I mean long!**

**I just want to say that while this is mainly a Chuck/Ivy story, I'm going to spend a good amount of time with the other characters. The other plots all tie in with what's going on with ChIvy, so bear with me. And don't worry, there's still a nice long interaction at the end of this chapter. Hope you like it!**

**XXXX**

The next morning saw the beginning of the end of the New York winter. The sun was clear in the sky, the air clear and fresh and smelling only slightly of fumes. Despite everything that had been going on in Serena's life- the whole situation with the man she loved and her best friend, for starters- she couldn't help but be cheered up a bit. When the weather was this nice, it was impossible to remain gloomy.

She was on her way to class when she decided to stop in at Chuck's and say hi to the boys. The staff at the Empire knew her well by now and didn't look twice when she walked across the lobby and into the elevator. It was a short ride up to the top, past floor after floor of travellers and business types. The Empire had become well-known in the New York hospitality scene, and was never without guests. Just being here made Serena proud of her brother and all he'd accomplished. Even considering what it had taken to get him here.

"Chuck?" Serena called as she emerged into his suite. "Nate?"

She looked around, peering into Chuck's bedroom to find it empty, then into Nate's bedroom to find him and Lola fast asleep. Backing away quietly, she walked back-first into the very brother she'd just been looking for. Serena whirled around so fast she nearly fell over, prompting Chuck to grab her arm and steady her.

"Where were you hiding?" she asked, keeping her voice down.

"Just in the kitchen. Didn't want to wake up the lovebirds." Chuck walked over and shut the door of Nate's bedroom before returning to Serena. "What can I do for you, sis?"

"Oh, I just thought I'd stop by and say hi. See how you were doing with the whole Blair thing since… well, I know if I'm not feeling great about it, you must be feeling even worse."

"Actually," Chuck said, "I think I'm going to be okay."

"Well, of course you are! I always knew you would. I just didn't expect you to realize it so quickly. I don't know if anyone's told you this, Chuck, but you tend to mope."

_I've heard that before,_ Chuck thought with a small smile. "Really, I'm fine. I appreciate your concern, though. Now I'm going to offer some of my own. As repellant as I may find Humphrey, I know you had feelings for him. Much like my feelings for Blair. So now, I'm asking you. How are you doing?"

Serena, a bit puzzled by this side of Chuck, was pleased. "Like you said, I'm going to be okay. Aren't we doing well for ourselves! I don't mean to jump the gun, but this may be something mature people do."

"Don't even say it," Chuck said. "You'll jinx it."

"Right. Of course not. Better turn the conversation around. So, what did you get up to last night? If you're this happy, you must have done something."

"Actually, I went to go see Lily."

Serena furrowed her brow. "My mother? I was home with her all night. And I'm pretty sure I would have noticed you there. The loft's not that big."

"Until last night, I wasn't aware she was staying at the loft. I went to the building. The one that's been repossessed by a certain faux cousin of yours."

"Oh, my God. Ivy. She's actually _staying_ there? I thought she took it just to bother us. It's really annoying, too. I was going to move out of Blair's place and go to my old room till I found somewhere else, but now I have nowhere else to stay."

"Stay here."

"In the suite? There's no room."

"I'll get you a room in the hotel. But feel free to come up here as you wish. Not that that needs saying. You know you always have a standing invitation."

"I really appreciate it, Chuck. I mean, living with Blair was great for a while, but..." Serena trailed off for a moment, not sure how to finish the sentence.

Chuck did it for her. "You need your space."

"Precisely."

"Have all the space you want. We've got plenty."

"When should I move in?"

"Whenever you want. I'll tell the staff to expect you."

Serena grinned. "Every time I'm worried about something, I come here and you just fix it all up. You know what, Chuck? I think you might be a miracle worker."

"Serena, you are a miracle."

She hugged him, or he hugged her, and for a moment it just felt nice to be loved. Even If the love was about as platonic as you could get, even if it couldn't compare to the heart-stopping, blood-rushing loves they had lost, it was real.

"So, did you talk to her?" Serena asked, her chin on Chuck's shoulder, not wanting to let go.

"Who?"

"Ivy."

"Yeah. She offered me a drink."

Serena pulled back, suddenly indignant. "Did you take it? Wait, what am I asking? Chuck Bass, turn down a drink? Ugh, you took it!"

"It was some very nice scotch," Chuck said defensively. "I was being polite."

"Chuck, you can_not_ talk to her. She basically stole from our family!"

"The part of my heart owned by the van der Woodsens is appropriately upset. But the Chuck Bass part of my heart is somewhat admiring of her scheme. I haven't seen skill like that in a long time."

"I'm glad you're amused by our suffering," Serena said hotly.

"Says the girl with the million-dollar wardrobe about her mother, the business mogul who could feed most of Africa with her paycheque. Would you love me if I was any other way?"

"Oh, shut up," Serena said, and swatted him on the arm.

**XXXX**

The sound of voices crept into Nate's bedroom, causing his eyes to crack open. He glanced over at the clock on his bedside table. 8 o'clock?

"Shit," he mumbled, climbing out of bed. The movement caused Lola to wake up; she, who had been curled up tight in the blankets, stretched like a cat to get her blood going.

"Is this a one-night stand?" she asked. "Because you're running off pretty quick."

Nate, who'd been rifling through his closet for something to wear, laughed. "No. It's just later than I thought. I gotta get to work. I can drop you off at class on the way, if you want."

"It's not on the way," Lola pointed out.

"It is if you go the long way."

"You're sweet," Lola said. "But don't worry about me. I've got plenty of time to get there. Maybe I'll stay here, hang out with Chuck for a bit."

"I can see that happening. The free-spirit actress from Florida and the businessman from Manhattan? It's practically a sitcom already."

"Good idea! I call copyright."

Nate grinned and sat down next to her, giving her a kiss. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer, only to have him put his hands on her waist and gently push her away. Lola pouted at the rejection.

"Hey," she complained.

"I've got to get to work. You have no idea how badly I want an extra twenty minutes with you," he said. "Want to have lunch?"

She frowned. "Can't. I'm all booked. Some fancy restaurant with William van der Woodsen."

"William van der Woodsen? Your uncle-in-law? I thought you didn't want to get to know your family. And even if you did, starting with him is a bit weird."

"I thought so too. I don't know. He wanted to talk about something." Lola shrugged. "I figured, might as well. He actually seems sane."

"Well, have fun," Nate said as he disappeared into the bathroom.

"I will," Lola replied to the now-empty air.

**XXXX**

"Dorota!"

At the sound of the familiar cry from her mistress' room, Dorota- nearly eight months pregnant and far too tired for all this running- hurried up the stairs. She let herself into Blair's bedroom to find the girl lying under her blanket, pouting. Dorota sighed.

"Yes, Mees Blair?"

"I am friendless and alone," Blair whimpered.

"No, Mees Blair! You have Mister Dan, Mees Serena…"

"Mees Serena hates me right now. I guess if I were her, I'd hate me too. In fact, I kind of do hate me. Dorota, I'm about to tell you something that must never leave this room."

Wide-eyed, Dorota nodded, inching closer to her mistress on the bed.

As though the words were causing her physical pain to speak, Blair said, in one long stream of a word, "."

"Mees Blair!"

"Oh, come on, Dorota! I'm practically divorced. And it's not adultery if your husband is manipulative and evil. Now, can we focus on the matter at hand? We had sex and it was abysmal. Come on. Dispense some advice, _s'il vous plait_."

Dorota looked like she was about to pass out. Despite Blair's look of disgust, Dorota sat down on the edge of Blair's bed, cradling her swollen stomach with her hands.

"Mees Blair, I not the right person to ask about this," Dorota attempted.

"Well, who else am I supposed to ask? Serena? 'Hey, S, remember how I told you I had feelings for the guy you love and he likes me back? We fu- I mean," Blair interrupted herself, seeing the look on Dorota's face, "made love, and it was dreadful. Any tips?' I'm sure that would go over so well. I'm not going to talk to Humphrey about it, obviously. And he's probably talking to Nate right now. You know, Dorota, I don't actually have that many friends."

Dorota remained tactfully silent, prompting Blair to flop backwards onto the bed.

"I have never had this problem before," she declared. "Ever."

"Maybe you just… do it again. Until it feel right," Dorota suggested.

"Ugh," Blair said. "Forget it. There must be something in the _Ladies' Home Journal_." And with that, Blair leapt out of bed and left the room. Dorota, still seated, could do nothing more than boggle at how things had taken a turn.

**XXXX**

It had been a long day for Serena. After meeting with Chuck she'd gone to class, listened to a long and horrendously boring lecture on the Bronte sisters (_three sisters, all writers? Jeez, couldn't one of them break the mold_? Serena thought), and then had spent the rest of the day trying and failing to write a half-decent essay on the role of the modern woman in American culture. After giving up on that, she'd come to the loft to see her mother. Serena had been doing a lot of that lately. Anywhere was better than Blair's penthouse. The loft was small, but it was usually devoid of a certain Humphrey, who spent most of his time out. Serena didn't want to think about where.

The loft wasn't exactly agreeing with Lily- the word _shoebox_ was used at least once, and angrily- but when Serena had walked in the door Lily's face had absolutely lit up. They'd ordered in, and now the two women sat on the couch while Serena listened patiently to her mother's gripes.

"I can't believe she kicked you out of your own home," Serena said.

Lily sighed. "What could I do? CeCe left her the apartment. According to my mother, I no longer have any right to live there."

"But that's not fair!" Serena cried. "It's totally ridiculous! Can't you fight it? Get a lawyer or something?"

"It's not that easy, I'm afraid. But enough about me," Lily said. "Tell me about you, darling. Whatever happened with you and Daniel? He's never around anymore. He's either with Nathaniel or Alessandra. Are he and Alessandra dating?"

"Well, that would be something, since he's currently dating my best friend. This after I told him I still loved him at her wedding. Did I mention that he ran away from me after that?"

Despite Lily's years of experience as a polite society woman, trained to keep her emotions well-cloaked, she couldn't keep her jaw from dropping at this news.

"Yeah, I know," Serena said.

"Oh, Serena. That is simply awful. I am so sorry."

"What are you sorry for? I told him how I felt, he didn't feel the same. It's that easy."

"Yes, but at the very least he could have the decency to not immediately go after your best friend! Who is, I may add, a married woman. How incredibly insensitive."

"Well, apparently they feel really strongly about each other, so who am I to get in the way of that?"

"I applaud you for being the bigger person, Serena. It's very mature of you. And completely opposite of what I would have done, by the way."

"Yeah?" Serena said, a smile curving around her lips for the first time since their conversation had begun. "What would you have done?"

"Oh, I would have destroyed them," Lily said, very matter-of-factly. Serena laughed.

"As great as that would probably make me feel, I just can't bring myself to try anything. Blair seems so fragile right now, I wouldn't want to do anything to upset her. Even though she's upsetting me. I guess it's unintentional. I mean, so much has happened to her. The accident, losing the baby…"

"It must have been horrible," Lily said, sadness creeping into her voice. "And you were there for her all the way through. When did my little girl get so grown up?"

"Oh, didn't we go through enough of that when I turned eighteen?"

"Apparently there was some left over."

They smiled at each other, and then, in unison, both of the van der Woodsen women took a sip of their drinks. The conversation turned from those heavy topics to something simpler- what movie were they going to watch? Having decided on _Sixteen Candles_, they were about to press 'Play' when the door burst open and Blair Waldorf herself stomped into the loft in a trenchcoat and a pair of frighteningly high heels.

"Humphrey!" Blair demanded. "Humphrey, where are you?"

She swiveled around, and upon seeing Serena and Lily on the couch, gasped. She grabbed at the collar of her trenchcoat, keeping it shut tight. Serena looked away, suddenly realizing what her best friend was doing. She knew exactly what was- or rather, wasn't- underneath that coat.

"Lily," Blair said. "Serena. What are you two doing here?"

"My husband owns this loft," Lily said, icy.

Blair seemed surprised by the usually genial woman's coldness. "Oh. Of course. I didn't mean to barge in on you so rudely. I was just looking for Dan."

"Well, he's not here," Lily replied. "Have a good night, Blair."

"Certainly. Sorry, again." Blair caught a glimpse of the television. "Are you two watching _Sixteen Candles_? I love that movie."

"Yes, we are," Serena said, and it became so frigid in the loft that she thought she might soon be able to see her breath. Blair hesitated for a moment, sparking irritation in the two blondes on the sofa. Serena was thinking, _does she really think I'm going to invite her to stay here when she didn't even come here to see me? _And Lily was wondering something along the same lines, only with more profanity.

Eventually Blair left. The van der Woodsen women listened as her high heels click-clacked out of the loft and down the hall. Without a word, Serena lifted the remote and pressed 'Play'.

**XXXX**

While Lily and Serena were cozied up in the loft, Ivy was sitting alone on the white couch she hated and pretending that she wasn't listening for the elevator. She was lonely, not desperate. And she didn't want to admit, even to herself, that she wanted Chuck's company. Because what if last night had just been a fluke? Maybe he just wanted something to drink. She offered, he accepted. It was silly of her to expect anything else from him.

_But,_ she thought, _that doesn't mean I'm not allowed to hope…_

And then she got angry at herself for hoping, because hoping was stupid and unrealistic. Chuck was practically a van der Woodsen himself. He probably disliked her just as much as the others did. But then, why had he been so friendly last night?

Now, thinking about the van der Woodsens, Ivy felt that familiar tingle of guilt. She was beginning to think that taking their home away from them was not the best way to win back their affections.

When the elevator doors whirred open around nine o'clock, it took all her willpower to keep from spinning like a top to see who it was. Instead, she let the footsteps- his expensive shoes made a nice solid noise on the floor- move into the room before she turned ever so slowly.

It was Chuck. In a suit even nicer than yesterday's. Carrying a bottle of scotch.

"I thought I'd get you a housewarming present," he said. And she smiled.

**XXXX**

He'd poured them both a glass, and was now sitting beside her on the couch. Chuck was thinking about how much had happened in this penthouse. All the drama, all the scandals, and now he was sitting beside one of the biggest of them all.

He had to wonder how she'd gotten to this place. He knew the van der Woodsens were mad at her, but girls who looked the way Ivy did simply didn't go through life alone. They made friends just walking down the street. Was being alone a choice of hers? Conscious or unconscious? Either way, the girl was troubled. He knew the feeling.

Chuck found himself to be actually curious about the situation, and, deciding to check out his theory, he asked, "How is it that a girl like you has only a semi-depressed drunk to hang out with on a Friday night?"

"You're drunk? Already? You hide it well," she replied.

"You're good at dodging questions. Is that how you managed to convince a whole family you were one of them?"

"I guess so."

"Come on. There's really no one you'd rather be with?"

"Everyone I know in this city hates me."

"That's not true. Aren't you friends with Georgina?"

"I don't think Georgina's capable of having friends. Besides, she's out of town."

Chuck considered this for a moment. "Well, I don't mind you. In fact, I'm quite impressed by you. Deception is an undervalued art form, and you are a regular Picasso."

"I never liked Picasso," Ivy mused, taking a drink.

"Michelangelo, then."

She smiled and turned around on the couch so she could face him. "You know, I could turn that question around on you, Mr. Bass. How many billions have you got in your bank account?"

"A few," he admitted, swirling his scotch around in the glass.

"A few. And you're hanging out with some ex-white trash? What would Gossip Girl say?"

"I think Gossip Girl has said everything there is to say about me. You wouldn't believe the bombs she's dropped in her time, how many lies she's uncovered. Sometimes I wonder how different my life would be if she didn't exist."

"People would still do bad things. It would just take a bit longer to hear about them." An idea jumping into her head, Ivy went on, "Gossip Girl's on hiatus. Who knows when she'll be back?"

"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

"I think I am. I mean, come on, Chuck. What are we doing here?"

He looked at her quizzically. "Is that a philosophical question or a literal one?"

She rolled her eyes. "Literal. Look at us! We're young. We're wealthy. We're absolutely beautiful. What the hell are we doing sitting inside when the city that never sleeps is sitting right outside waiting for us?"

Chuck didn't respond immediately. The silence stretched out, five seconds, ten, until Ivy could hardly bear it. _You could just say no_, she thought.

"Unless you don't want to be seen with me," Ivy added, trying not to sound as embarrassed as she felt.

"That's not it," he replied. "Not at all. I'm just thinking about where I could take you."

"Where _you_ could take _me_? I thought this was a mutual exploration."

"It could be. Or I could take you to Victrola."

Ivy grinned. Victrola. The palace of hedonism and debauchery. How could she say no?

"Let's go," she said.

**XXXX**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry about the wait. I went on vacation and when I came back I had a million and one things to do. Keep reading and reviewing- I love seeing everything you guys have to say. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! **

**XXXX**

With Chuck Bass, at least, chivalry wasn't dead. He helped Ivy out of the limo at Victrola and led her into the place, his hand against the small of her back. He hadn't had to change, dressed as he was in suit and tie, but she had. In one of the penthouse's many closets she'd found a red dress, loud in colour but otherwise respectable, tight enough to show she was a woman but loose enough to show she was a lady- as the saying went. She hadn't overlooked Chuck's appreciative gaze, nor had she disliked it. Happiness bubbled up inside of her. It was fun to go out into the world as herself, not Charlie but Ivy, and she was going to enjoy the hell out of this evening.

"Welcome, Mr. Bass," cooed the woman at the door before lifting the red velvet rope to allow them inside.

The club was packed with voyeurs, trendsetters, the idle rich with drinks in their hands and pills in their pockets. He showed her to a couch in front of the stage. A young woman in fishnets and heels approached bearing a tray of champagne glasses. Chuck took two, offering one to Ivy, who took it gladly.

"I feel like I've done more drinking with you since I got to New York than I have in my whole life before that," she said, but she was forced to speak loudly to be heard over the music, and had to lean over until she was practically in his lap for him to hear her. Her hair fell out from behind her ear, forming a blonde curtain beside her face. Chuck looked at her, amused.

"I've lived in New York for twenty-one years. You have some catching up to do," he said.

She sat back to enjoy the show. Burlesque. Indulgence masquerading as art. Garter belts, stockings and lace, relics of a different age. What had happened to this world? Teasing, tantalizing had all gone out the window in exchange for cheap thrills and overexposure. _I want a corset, _Ivy thought.

"You look pensive," Chuck said. "What are you thinking about?"

"Buying a corset," she said.

He grinned. "I'll drink to that."

She touched her glass to his.

**XXXX**

Seeing Blair again had made Serena realize something- she couldn't bear living in the same place as her any longer. She made her apologies to Lily and bolted from the loft, hurrying to Blair's penthouse and praying that Blair wasn't intending to go home that night. Luckily for Serena, Blair wasn't at home, but knowing she could return at any moment, Serena emptied drawer after drawer, flinging her stuff into bags without care. Thankfully Dorota's work was done for the day, since if she knew what Serena was doing, she'd call Blair immediately. And Serena didn't feel like dealing with Blair at the moment. Not her false concern, not her big doe eyes, not her lies about how their friendship was more important than any boy.

She called the doorman to take her bags down to the car, which waited downstairs to take her to the Empire. Serena was up in her bedroom, making sure she hadn't forgotten anything, when she heard it. The elevator. She knew it wasn't the doorman, because he was waiting for her in the lobby. It must be her roommate.

Serena listened. She heard the low hum of Blair's voice, coming up in a laugh at the end of her sentence. Then- and here Serena's stomach dropped- a male voice. A very familiar male voice. Dan Humphrey and Blair Waldorf were here, and Serena knew what they were going to do.

"I'm happy you're ready to try again," Dan said, voice muffled by walls and insulation, yet nothing could separate Serena from the pain of those words.

"Me, too," Blair replied.

She couldn't run out now. She would have to explain herself. And what if they'd seen her suitcases being loaded into the car? She'd have to wait until they were distracted. Her stomach turned at the thought of what that distraction would be.

They walked up the stairs. Serena heard Blair's heels, tap-tap-tap on the shiny surface, followed by the good, solid _clump_ made by Dan's shoes. They entered Blair's room. Kissing, the sound of clothes being removed and dropped to the floor. Tears welled in Serena's eyes, stupid tears, signs of emotions she was trying so hard not to feel. A creak of bedsprings, a sigh. Blair's voice- _oh!_- and Dan's low moan and Serena felt like she was about to be sick, literally, physically sick.

She stole out of her bedroom (not that it was her bedroom anymore) and made her way down the stairs as quickly as she could. She paused only for a moment by the table in the foyer, just to leave a note explaining where she'd gone. And then she got into the elevator and she got the hell out of that penthouse because the only thing she would find there was misery, and she had enough of that to last her a lifetime.

**XXXX**

Nate got home from the Spectator late, far later than usual, and immediately traded his business suit for a T-shirt and jeans. It felt like forever since he'd last had a casual night in alone. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy going out to dinner with Lola, or hanging out with Chuck, but sometimes a guy just needed to relax and watch some TV.

That all went out the window when Serena arrived. She walked into the suite, beautiful and bitter and sad, and took a seat beside him. Any other person and Nate might have been a bit annoyed at the disruption to his solitude, but she looked so unhappy, he couldn't stand it.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," he replied. He gestured towards the TV with a hand. "It'scalled _Awake._ Ever seen it?"

"No."

"It's good. That's the guy from _Harry Potter_. He's a detective. He was in this car accident, and…" He watched her out of the corner of his eye. Red-rimmed eyes, mascara slightly smudged, her focus on the show flimsy at best. Nate grabbed the remote, pressed 'Pause'. She turned to him like she was just realizing that he was there.

"Chuck said you were staying in the hotel for a bit."

She looked away. "Yeah."

"I hate seeing you so sad."

"Well, I hate being so sad."

He opened his arms to her and she crawled into them, leaning her head on his chest, letting him hold her like a child. "For the record," he told her, "I think what Dan and Blair are doing is really insensitive."

"What am I supposed to do, Nate? I tell them they can be together and they make me feel like this. I tell them it makes me uncomfortable and they're all pouty, _or_ they just start sneaking around behind my back. There's no win in this situation."

"I know."

"I thought me and Blair were in a good place, you know? But we spent more time together back in high school than we do now when we live in the same apartment. Not to mention that now I have to listen to her fuck the guy I love in the other room."

"Jesus," Nate said. Serena never usually talked like that. An ugly word for an ugly situation. "Serena, I'm sorry."

"I just don't know what I did wrong. He used to love me! It was a long time ago, but he loved me. What happened to us? Why can't we just go back to that? Weren't we happy?"

"I don't know why you'd want to go back, honestly."

He felt her tense up against him. "What?"

"Dan's changed. You must have noticed that. He used to be all up on his high horse, preaching to us about morals and integrity and doing the right thing. Now? He's lying, he's letting other people take the fall for stuff he's done, he's hooking up with your best friend when he knows exactly how you feel about him… Serena, you're too good for him, and you always were."

"But I love him," she said, and she sounded so miserable that for a moment Nate felt compelled to leap from his seat, find Dan Humphrey and give him a solid punch to the face. "And didn't I do the same thing? You know… with you and me?"

"We were teenagers. And you tried so hard to fix things- don't you remember? You pushed me away. You were determined to put her feelings before mine because she was your best friend, and I was the guy she loved, and that was how it was supposed to stay. It didn't work out, as we know, but it wasn't because of you. It was because of me. You're a great person, Serena. Don't let Dan Humphrey make you doubt that."

Serena sniffed. She hadn't thought it was possible for anyone to make her feel better. But she hadn't considered Nate. "Well," she said, "you're not so bad yourself."

"Thanks," Nate said.

"Anytime."

**XXXX**

"Can I see you dance?" Ivy asked. She was a little drunk. The fizz of the champagne seemed to have settled in her brain. And this place, heavy with smoke and music, wasn't doing anything to help her sobriety.

Chuck laughed. "You don't want to."

"Come on! Mr. Upper East Side doesn't know how to dance?"

"Not the kind of dancing that befits this place."

"Then…" she said, "we'll leave this place!"

"And go where?"

She sighed, impatient with his lack of imagination, and grabbed his hand. "Follow me!" she said, pulling him up off the couch and towards the exit. Obediently he trailed her out the door, down the block, past passersby who gave them strange looks and then down into an alleyway between an Egyptian restaurant and a wedding dress store. Ivy released him. Despite their impromptu workout she wasn't a bit out of breath. If anything, she was more buzzed than she had been before. Chuck, of course, was as composed as ever. She leaned against the cold brick wall behind her and stared at him expectantly.

"Well?" she demanded.

"Well?"

"What did we come here to do? I want you to dance!"

He laughed. "Can't dance without a partner," he said, and held out his hand.

She took it. Chuck drew her away from the wall, closer to him, leaving an appropriate amount of space between them. Ivy hated that space. He clasped her fingers in his own, put his other hand on her waist. After a moment, she remembered what she was supposed to do, and put her hand on his shoulder. She could smell that cologne again, sharp and fragrant, and it was a good thing Chuck was paying attention to what they were doing because she certainly wasn't. He moved his feet slowly, striking out a simple pattern on the rough ground beneath them. Ivy copied him.

No talking, no music, just the two of them dancing in an alleyway, darkness pressing in on all sides, the lights from the street and the shops seeming miles away. He twirled her and she laughed, unworried and unfettered by anything. It felt like if they just kept dancing, maybe everything else would work itself out, and they could stay where they were forever.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! In case you were wondering, I'm not planning to sync up this story with what's happening in the show. This story is going to go down its own road. Hope you like it!**

**XXXX**

"Mees Blair?"

Blair's eyes snapped open beneath her sleeping mask; she whipped it off, tossing it across the room as she leapt from the bed. She snatched her robe from off her chair and pulled it on, then hurried to her bedroom door, shutting and locking it before the maid could enter the room and see Humphrey, naked and tangled up in Blair's Egyptian cotton bedsheets.

_Oh, no,_ Blair thought as she looked down at Dan's sleeping form. She hadn't meant to fall asleep. She shouldn't have. What if Serena had seen them together? She should have kicked him out last night before S had gotten home.

Blair's bathroom door was closed. Had she done that? She couldn't remember. _No, no, no_, she thought. Serena was mad enough as it was, though she was trying to be cool about it. This wouldn't help the situation at all.

"Mees Blair?" Dorota's voice was closer now, right on the other side of the door. "Mees Blair, it nine o'clock." She knocked, tried the doorknob. "Mees Blair?"

"I'm up, Dorota!" Blair called. Behind her, Dan lifted his head off the pillow, finally coming awake. "Why don't you go downstairs and make some breakfast?"

"But, Mees Blair, there is a note-

"Later, Dorota!" Blair said, her tone warning the woman not to push the matter.

"Okay, Mees Blair," Dorota said. Blair waited for her footsteps to recede before turning around and, with one violent shove, pushing Dan off the bed. He landed with a nice solid thump, followed by a pained shout.

"What was that for?" he asked, sitting up off the floor.

"For falling asleep!" She had to keep herself from raising her voice, but she was feeling so desperate, it was a difficult job. "Humphrey, you idiot! Why didn't you leave last night?"

"I don't know! I was comfortable. I thought you wanted me to stay."

"Obviously not!"

He looked hurt, but she didn't really care, not enough to apologize for her words. "Fine. I'll go."

"No," Blair said. "You can't go now. Dorota's here, Serena might be here. You have to stay until I can scope the place out."

There was another knock at the door. "Mees Blair?"

"What, Dorota?" Blair asked, turning her attention away from the pouty Brooklynite, who climbed to his feet and began to dress himself.

"Sorry to bother you. I wonder if you know where Mees Serena has gone? She not here."

"I don't know! Maybe she went out for breakfast!"

"All her things are gone," Dorota said.

Dan, who had been pulling on his pants, froze in place. Blair shook her head. "No, that can't be right. What are you talking about, Dorota?"

"Go see," Dorota said.

Blair hesitated for a moment. She knew what she would find if she opened that door, but she couldn't resist holding onto the chance that Dorota was wrong. Serena wouldn't move out. Serena wouldn't leave. No matter how badly they'd hurt each other they were still best friends, right? Surely there was nothing they could do to change that?

And then she thought, _oh, God, did I really do this?_

Wordlessly, Dan and Blair opened the bathroom door and crossed the room. Serena's door was wide open. The bed was neatly made. The furniture was all in place. But the photographs, the books, the clothes, every little trace of Serena van der Woodsen was gone. Dan turned to Blair, a tender look on his face, like he wanted to comfort her, make her feel better. She didn't want to feel better.

"Go!" she shrieked. "Get out!"

She sat down on Serena's bed, waiting for him to leave so she could begin sobbing. He hovered for a moment, but thought better of it, and disappeared. The moment he was gone she let loose, tears pouring down her face, dripping onto her silk robe, her shoulders shaking as she let all the emotion flow out of her. At some point, Dorota entered the room, taking a seat beside her, putting an arm around her. Blair attempted feebly to push her away, but Dorota wasn't going anywhere.

Eventually, Blair's breathing evened out. Her eyes went dry. In a motherly gesture, Dorota reached out and tucked a strand of Blair's hair behind her ear.

"How am I going to fix this, Dorota?" Blair asked.

"Maybe you want read that note now," Dorota suggested, and handed her the envelope.

**XXXX**

_Blair,_

_I'm moving out. I think it's the best thing for me right now. You should have your apartment to yourself anyways. Thanks for letting me stay with you._

_-Serena_

**XXXX**

While Blair was reading the letter, Serena was sitting up in bed at the Empire, booting up her new laptop. Ever since she'd received it, the Gossip Girl email account had proved impossible to manage. Blasts poured in by the dozen, a seemingly never-ending flow of rumours and allegations. Serena suddenly had a lot of respect for Gossip Girl- _I mean,_ she thought, _she must be tremendously organized_- before she realized who it was she was thinking about. The admiration vanished like the air in a popped balloon.

So, she had a laptop full of information that could incriminate damn near the whole city. Was it immoral of her to have this if she wasn't making any of it public? But wouldn't it be immoral to make it public anyway? Should she just toss the thing and be done with it? She considered this last option several times. But every time she just ended up scrolling through the inbox again.

Hookups, shady dealings, secret meetings… she stopped abruptly at one message. "'Chuck Bass spotted at Victrola?'" she read. "Not exactly earth-shaking news." But there was a picture included. A picture of Chuck Bass sitting on the couch, watching the show, a grin on his face, a drink in his hand. Serena hadn't seen him look so happy in what felt like forever.

But beside him on the couch was Ivy Dickens.

**XXXX**

The van der Woodsens, as it appeared, weren't very big on reading. Ivy had scoured the house looking for a good book, but all she'd come up with were some coffee table books and a few celebrity biographies. Finally, in a bedside table, she'd found a worn copy of _The Beautiful and Damned_. She settled in on the couch with a cup of tea and began to read. She needed some time to relax after the night she'd had. Chuck had brought her home around three-thirty in the morning after their late-night prom date, and she still felt a bit tired. Mostly, though, she just felt content.

Around page forty-two, she heard the elevator doors open and Serena van der Woodsen entered the penthouse. She seemed taller than ever, twice as intimidating, as she strode towards Ivy. "Good morning," she said icily. "You and I need to talk."

Ivy put her book down. "Okay. Sure. I'd love to talk."

"Stay away from my brother," Serena said.

Ivy's face froze. _How did she know?_ "Serena, I don't know what you think is-"

"I don't care. I don't care if you're hooking up, I don't care if you're just friends, I don't care if he took you to his club because you want to invest- I don't care. He won't listen to me, he always does what he wants, so now I'm telling you to keep far away from Chuck, you lying bitch, or everything will be over for you."

Stung, Ivy looked down. "Maybe I deserve that, but-"

"Maybe?" Serena laughed shortly. "No, I think you _do_ deserve that. To say the very least. What's your game, Ivy? Our house, our money, now our family? I remember when you were just stealing my dresses and dating my ex-boyfriend. Is that it? Are you trying to become me?"

"No!" Ivy said. "That wasn't me, Carol told me to-"

"And everything else? Carol told you to trick my grandmother into leaving you everything? Because she seems just as upset about this as I am!"

"I didn't trick CeCe! I wouldn't! I loved her!"

"You hardly knew her!"

"I knew her better than you did! I was there for her while she was dying! Where were you, Serena? God, all you care about is her money! Have you actually grieved for her at all? You lost a member of your family and all you seem to care about is your bank account!"

"That's not true!"

"So, then, why are you here? For Chuck? You just said he always does what he wants! If he didn't want to be my friend, he wouldn't be! It's simple! What, you don't trust him?"

"I don't want to see him get hurt!" Serena said. "He's been through enough of that lately!"

Ivy paused for a moment. "What do you mean?"

"He didn't tell you? The girl he loves told him she wasn't in love with him anymore. So yes, Ivy, I don't trust him right now. I don't trust him to make smart decisions because he's in pain, and he's trying to put on a brave face, but hanging out with someone like you is not going to help him." Then, her voice softening, "just please leave him alone."

She turned and walked away, leaving Ivy by herself.

**XXXX**

Chuck walked out of his bedroom at eleven o'clock in the morning, just in time to hear the tail end of a conversation Nate was having on the phone.

"Come on," Nate was saying as Chuck sat down beside him on the couch. "Please?... I know, but I wanted to spend some time with you." He sighed heavily. "Fine. Some other time. Bye."

He turned to Chuck. "So, where were you all night? I didn't hear you come in."

"Victrola," Chuck replied.

"By yourself?"

"Well, Nathaniel, there were a hundred other people there, so no."

"You know what I meant."

Chuck considered telling his friend about Ivy, but decided against it. After all, Nate was powerless against the interrogative skills of Serena. If she asked, he'd spill all. And Chuck wasn't sure he wanted Serena to know about this just yet.

Not that they had anything to hide. Nothing had happened. They were just friends. But still, Chuck felt like keeping this to himself.

So he said, "You know, Nathaniel, if you want to go out with me, you could just ask."

Nate rolled his eyes. "Okay, Chuck."

"Now, who was that on the phone just now?" Chuck asked, smoothly turning the conversation in another direction.

"That was Lola."

"Really? You didn't sound too happy. What's the problem?"

"She's going out to dinner with William van der Woodsen," Nate complained. "I wanted to take her out tonight. Instead she's hanging out with her uncle. When did her uncle become better company than me?"

"She's probably just trying to bond with the one family member she doesn't distrust," Chuck said.

"She _should _distrust him. Hasn't anyone told her about what happened two years ago?"

"I'm sure William didn't. 'By the way, Lola, I drugged my ex-wife to make her think she had cancer and attempted to break up her marriage so that she'd get back together with me. But everything is okay now.' Doesn't sound so great, does it?"

"She should know he's not a trustworthy guy," Nate said. "Well, fine. I'll probably just hang out with Serena again."

"Again?"

"Yeah. She came over last night once she'd dropped her stuff off. She was kind of upset."

"And you comforted her?"

"What are you saying, Chuck?"

"Nothing at all," Chuck said.

**XXXX**

_Maybe she's right_, said a little voice in Ivy's mind. She was still contemplating Serena's words, wondering if she had been right after all. _Maybe you _should _stay away from Chuck._

But she didn't really like that idea. Giving up the one friend she had, the one person with whom she could have fun? That was definitely not an option. But there was another way. There was a solution to all this. If Ivy gave the van der Woodsens their apartment back, maybe they'd stop hating her. Maybe they'd see that she wasn't so bad after all. And then they wouldn't care if she and Chuck were friends. Ivy could show them that she definitely wasn't going to hurt anyone anymore. Especially not Chuck.

She had been thinking about returning the apartment anyway. She'd taken it in a fit of pique and anger, frustration at being pushed out of the lives of the people she cared about. It had been a childish decision, and now it was time to take it back.

But they weren't just going to accept her with open arms, listen to everything she had to say. She needed a guide, someone to get her through the door. Grabbing for her cell phone, she scrolled through her contacts until she reached Chuck's name.

"Chuck?" she said once he had picked up. "It's Ivy. Are you free this afternoon? I need your help to do something."


End file.
